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Tag: Don Mattingly

So the Dodgers and Diamondbacks are drilling each other. Welcome to baseball season.

In a continuation of the bad blood we’ve seen between these teams over recent years—the lowlight being a protracted brawl at Dodger Stadium in 2013, followed by some shameful disrespect after Los Angeles beat the D’Backs in the playoffs a few months later—the teams went tit-for-tat-for-tit-for-tat on Monday, in a Cactus League game that saw four hit batters and four ejections.

Each of Monday’s incidents can be broken down piecemeal (watch ’em all over at CBSsports.com), but can be summarized in a few key points:

Intent seems almost incidental here. After Chris Anderson drilled Mark Trumbo in the first inning, Arizona’s response was pro forma.

Because, of course it was. Tony La Russa’s in charge. The king is dead. Long live the king.

The fact that the drilling was done largely by a bunch of farmhands is one explanation for their collective lack of control, but so too can it be used to explain intent. What better way to garner attention in a system that favors on-field justice than to mete out some of your own?

Both managers denied everything. This is their job, regardless of veracity. “We wouldn’t start something in spring training, said Don Mattingly in an MLB.com report, “and if we did, never around the head.” [Emphasis mine.]

Spring training is the time to settle old scores on both personal and institutional levels. When the games don’t count, extra baserunners don’t matter. The Diamondbacks in particular have some history with using this detail to their nefarious advantage.

So: Did they mean it, either of them? Ultimately it doesn’t matter. Multiple gauntlets were thrown on Monday, and multiple responses offered. For a couple of teams that already didn’t like each other coming into the game and which play each other 19 times this season, this portends for more interesting dynamics in 2015.

So Don Mattingly is peeved that the Cardinals were apparently interested in his team’s signs during last year’s NLCS. They were looking into the Los Angeles dugout, he told ESPN LA at the winter meetings. Runners at second may have been picking off catcher A.J. Ellis.

This is a weird one. This kind of thing not only happens all the time, to the extent that it’s accepted practice, but virtually every team does it to some extent. It’s a near certainty that the Dodgers do it themselves.

It’s weird because Mattingly doesn’t decry it outright, instead saying things like “We felt like we had to be sure we kept an eye on their first-base coach and their third-base coach,” and “[Third base coach Jose Oquendo] is a guy at third who’s always looking for my signs from our dugout.” Mattingly said it was on the Dodgers to stop it if was happening.

But if one possesses such entirely mainstream attitudes, why bring up the subject in the first place? These are the comments of a guy who says he has no axe to grind, even while he’s looking up from the axe grinder.

That said, let’s look at Oquendo for a moment. Back in 2008 or so, I interviewed him for The Baseball Codes. (He has been the St. Louis third base coach since 2000, and was the bench coach the season before that.) He addressed many of these issues, minus the part where he’s actually maximizing his team’s advantage:

“I steal signs every day as a coach. But one thing I don’t do, I don’t tell the hitters. Now, when somebody’s on base, I’m going to say to my runner when to run and when not to run. That’s part of the game. But I would never tell a hitter what’s coming. It’s respect. If a player asked me to do it, I would never do it. That’s my personal opinion, I respect the game in that way.”

So you sit on the coaching line and get the signs and use them to tell guys when to run?

“If I see a breaking ball, I know to have our guys steal. Or if a pitcher has a tell when he’s going to first, that stuff you take advantage of. To tell a hitter what’s coming, that’s never been my style. …”

How easy is it to steal signs, particularly if there’s a runner on?

“If nobody’s on base, I don’t even look at the signs. I don’t care with nobody on. Now with somebody on base, I might want to know if he is going to throw a pitchout, when they are going to throw to first, stuff like that. …

“I don’t “steal” the signs, I just see them. It’s pretty easy a lot of time—you see it from the catcher or from the pitcher. I’d say half of the catchers in the National League, I can see the signs from third base. [Mike] Matheny [then the Cardinals catcher, now the Cardinals manager] knows about it—he looks at me every time he’s going to put signs down. I drive him nuts at third base, but he knows that I’ll get it from him or from the pitcher. I’m gonna get it somewhere.

Talking about the Dodgers’ series against San Diego, which starts today, the skipper said that his team will not be looking for retaliation regarding Zack Greinke’s broken collarbone. Then again, Padres outfielder Carlos Quentin will be elsewhere, having dropped his appeal of the eight-game suspension handed down for his role in the matter. One of Mattingly’s pitchers could make a perfunctory statement by drilling a random Padre (in Los Angeles, on Jackie Robinson day, no less), or they could wait until the teams meet later in the season and send a message directly to its intended target.

Asked if he expected the Dodgers to level the score down the road, Mattingly replied, “We’ll just play baseball. We’ll see how the games go. You’ll see.”

You’ll see?

“No, I mean, you can make decisions then,” Mattingly said. “I’m not going to sit here and talk hypotheticals like, ‘Yeah, we’re going to get him back.’ That’s not something you would talk about even if that was part of the deal. You never talk about that.

“We’re trying to win games and trying to win a pennant. Getting retaliation on something is different than protecting your guys.”

Besides, said catcher A.J. Ellis, “Our problem is with one guy, not with their team.”

The reality is that umpires will likely begin today’s series by warning both benches, preventing Dodgers starter Chad Billingsley from going after Padres hitters even if he wanted to, which he insisted he did not.

Billingsley, it should be pointed out, has been criticized in the past for failing to protect his teammates—specifically during the 2008 NLCS, after Philadelphia’s Brett Myers repeatedly came inside on Dodgers hitters.

He likely won’t have to worry about such a reputation following him regardless of what happens Monday. Once the guy the Dodgers want to see is in the lineup, the countdown will begin.

Proper response to umpires is an essential component of survival as a baseball player. Some players go to lengths to learn names and details from umpires’ lives, then chat them up, as friends do, because it might buy some goodwill down the road.

Others have a more difficult time determining appropriate behavior.

That definition, of course, differs from ump to ump, and may even differ from day to day for the same guy, depending on his mood. Thursday in Pittsburgh, it appeared that plate umpire Angel Campos was a bit grumpy.

Things began in the second inning, with Matt Kemp—still upset over calls during his first-inning strikeout—chirping from the dugout toward the plate. As Andre Ethier stood in the batter’s box, Campos can be heard on the telecast saying toward the Dodgers dugout, “I don’t want to hear you again, I’m telling you that right now.” Somebody on the bench replies, “Just watch the game.”

“That’s all I’m telling you,” replies Campos.

“Just watch the game,” echoes the bench.

Talk from the dugout continued, though it can not be understood on the game audio, and a moment later Campos responded firmly, ejecting Kemp. (Watch it all here.)

According to Kemp, the phrase he used to break the Campos’ back: “Let’s go, Dre.” Manager Don Mattingly’s swift and outraged reaction to the ejection—he was tossed as well in short order—supports the statement.

“Matt got thrown out today for cheering for Andre,” Mattingly said after the game, as reported by MLB.com. “He was barking about the pitch to Dre, the second strike, but then Angel said, ‘That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word.’ So the next thing that came out of [Matt’s mouth]—I heard it, clear as a bell—he said—because Matt knows where to stop—and Matt said, ‘Let’s go, Dre!’ And [Campos] looked over, and he threw him out of the game. It’s unacceptable.”

We’re left with the fact that an umpire has little reason to eject anyone over a statement of teammate support that can in no way be interpreted as an attack. We’re left with the fact that ejecting a team’s best player in the second inning of a game—especially a team in the heat of a pennant race—is an action that should only be utilized as a final resort, not a first one. We’re left with an outraged roster that, short its No. 3 hitter, ultimately fell to the Pirates, 10-6.

Something trumps all of that, however—a rule about which both Kemp and Mattingly should have been glaringly aware: Know Your Umps.

Campos clearly told them to zip it, and zip it they did not. Was it justified? Probably not. But to push things in such a manner when a directive has already been issued to refrain from said pushing isn’t the world’s greatest strategy. Kemp may feel like he backed down from a potential confrontation, but he clearly didn’t back down enough.

Umps don’t have to be just or reasonable or even correct. They’re hopefully held accountable for their actions at some point during or after the season, but in the moment, the wrongest-of-the-wrong umpires still has the power to toss a player for the smallest-of-the-small reasons. Kemp should never have given him that reason.

Pitcher Joe Blanton’s ejection in the fifth was another matter entirely. As the right-hander was heading for the dugout after being pulled from the game, he stared daggers at Campos until the umpire said something, then lit off toward him to engage in heated conversation. He knew what he was doing and he knew where it would end, and all went precisely according to plan. (Watch it here.)

Kemp: Not so much. His spot in the order came up three more times with runners on base—once with the bases loaded—and even though the Dodgers got a bunt single and a hit-by-pitch from his replacements to score runs in two of those situations, there’s little question that Kemp’s presence would have offered them significantly more.

The chance to win a game trumps nearly every one of baseball’s unwritten rules. When it comes to the one about knowing how to deal with umpires, however, the two go hand in hand. The Dodgers know this as well as anybody, but on Wednesday they ignored it—and it cost them.

Don Mattingly talked Codes in Los Angelesthis week, suggesting to ESPN that Dodger outfielder Matt Kemp did not win the NL MVP Award at least in part due to an unwritten rule mandating that such players come from winning teams.

It’s certainly not a written rule. As Anna McDonald reported at the Hardball Times, “The rules of the voting remain the same as they were written on the first ballot in 1931: (1) actual value of a player to his team, that is, strength of offense and defense; (2) number of games played; (3) general character, disposition, loyalty and effort; (4) former winners are eligible; and (5) members of the committee may vote for more than one member of a team.”

The Code to which Mattingly referred has been truly flaunted only once, in 1987, when Andre Dawson took the honor, despite playing for the last-place Cubs. (In 1997, Larry Walker’s Rockies were a third-place team, and in 1989 the Brewers and Robin Yount finished in fourth. Neither, however, was a losing club, although Milwaukee finished at an even.500.)

In the wake of Ryan Braun’s PED investigation, Mattingly said he thinks Kemp should’ve won the award in the first place.

“You guys (the media) always ask me about unwritten rules, about catchers and stuff like that,” he said. “Then we have the unwritten rules about voting, because (Kemp) wasn’t on a winning team. You guys gotta get your unwritten rules together.”

The argument here is obvious: How valuable can a player on a last-place team actually be? This conversation occurs every winter—not only as it pertains to the validity of star players on losing squads, but pitchers’ eligibility for the MVP as well. It’s why some advocate for a “Most Outstanding Player Award,” and why some say that none of it matters—it’s all just a popularity contest, anyway. How else could Ted Williams bat .406, lead the league in home runs … and finish second to Joe DiMaggio? Or winning the triple crown twice—and losing the MVP both times, first to Joe Gordon, then again to DiMaggio.

For what it’s worth, all three of those Williams-led Red Sox teams finished with winning records, in either second or third place in an eight-team league.

Must have been the Code that handed those awards to members of the pennant-winning Yankees. Don Mattingly would not have approved.

Mike Quade: Needing a copy of the Brewers' and Dodgers' unwritten rulebooks.

One thing we’ve learned for certain so far this young season: Cubs manager Mike Quade is a fan of the unwritten rules. He gets bothered when they’re broken on his watch, and he’s willing to call out those who diminish their importance or ignore them altogether.

First, it was Brewers skipper Ron Roenicke, who inserted pinch-runner Carlos Gomez into the eighth inning of a game in which his team led 5-0, then watched unapologetically as Gomez stole two bases.

“These unwritten rules—everybody has their own interpretation,” said Quade. Sometimes when interpretations differ, that’s when you run into trouble.”

Funny that “run into to trouble” is the phrase he chose.

Not two weeks later, Dodgers catcher A.J. Ellis did literally that when he tried to swipe a base with his team holding an 8-1 lead in the fifth.

This seems like a good place to get into Quade’s notion of differing interpretations. When Gomez ran against the Cubs, his team’s 5-0 lead was considered insufficient by Roenicke to shut down his running game, but the eighth inning is without question an appropriate timeframe to have done so.

When Ellis swiped his base, the criteria were reversed; there’s little argument that an 8-1 lead is well within the boundaries of “safe,” but the fifth inning might be considered a touch early for some managers to call off the dogs.

“I do think I probably need to get a copy of the Milwaukee and L.A. unwritten rules books, too, unless they missed a sign,” said Quade.

As it turns out, that’s precisely what happened. After the game, Ellis and Dodgers manager Don Mattingly both confessed as much; Mattingly said his sign to third-base coach Tim Wallach was “missed” (whatever that actually means), and off went Ellis, possessor of zero prior steals over parts of four big league seasons.

Still, said Mattingly, “We knew when it happened, we figured they’d be irritated.”

Ellis’ steal brought to mind another Dodgers youngster who stole another base in an inappropriate situation. In the case of Roger Cedeno, however, there was no missed sign. From the Baseball Codes:

In a game in 1996, the Giants trailed Los Angeles 11–2 in the ninth inning, and decided to station ﬁrst baseman Mark Carreon at his normal depth, ignoring the runner at ﬁrst, Roger Cedeno. When Cedeno, just twenty-one years old and in his ﬁrst April as a big-leaguer, saw that nobody was bothering to hold him on, he headed for second—by any interpretation a horrible decision.

As the runner, safe, dusted himself off, Giants third baseman Matt Williams lit into him verbally, as did second baseman Steve Scarsone, left ﬁelder Mel Hall, and manager Dusty Baker. Williams grew so heated that several teammates raced over to restrain him from going after the young Dodgers outﬁelder.

The least happy person on the ﬁeld, however, wasn’t even a member of the Giants—it was Dodgers hitter Eric Karros, who stepped out of the batter’s box in disbelief when Cedeno took off. Karros would have disap­proved even as an impartial observer, but as the guy who now had a pissed-off pitcher to deal with, he found his thoughts alternating between anger toward Cedeno and preparing to evade the fastball he felt certain was headed his way. (“I was trying to ﬁgure if I was going to [duck] for­ward or go back,” said Karros after the game. “It was a 50–50 shot.”) Giants pitcher Doug Creek, however, in a display of egalitarian diplo­macy, left Karros unmarked, choosing instead to let the Giants inﬂict whatever retribution they saw ﬁt directly upon Cedeno. (Because it was the ninth inning, nothing happened during that particular game.)

At second base, Scarsone asked Cedeno if he thought it was a full count, and the outﬁelder responded that, no, he was just confused. “If he’s that confused, somebody ought to give him a manual on how to play baseball,” said Baker after the game. “I’ve never seen anybody that con­fused.”

In the end, it was Karros who saved Cedeno. When he stepped out of the box, as members of the Giants harangued the bewildered baserunner, Karros didn’t simply watch idly—he turned toward the San Francisco bench and informed them that Cedeno had run without a shred of insti­tutional authority, and that Karros himself would ensure that justice was administered once the game ended. Sure enough, as Cedeno sat at his locker after the game, it was obvious to observers that he had been crying. Though the young player refused to comment, it appeared that Karros had been true to his word. “Ignorance and youth really aren’t any excuse,” said Dodgers catcher Mike Piazza, “but we were able to cool things down.”